


lemongrass

by shinsxoh



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, First Love, Heartbreak, Idol universe, Introspection, M/M, Unrequited Love, brief mentions of OCD, brief mentions of anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 01:50:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14822942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinsxoh/pseuds/shinsxoh
Summary: Kihyun is a fragile person and Hoseok is not the man to fix him.





	lemongrass

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ky6HfTioqY)  
> lemongrass has no meaning in terms of flourists, but is widely used as medicine in asia.

Kihyun was a fragile person.

He always had been and he supposed he always would be. His members saw him as the one who nagged for them to clean up around the dorm and threw their wrappers in the bin as a way to show his care. His fans saw him the same, perhaps with a sprinkle of mean or a dash of spite thrown in for good measure. Over the years of training, debuting and living the idol life, Kihyun had started to believe that the person he was on stage and in interviews and talking to fans was all he ever was. He was spiteful and sarcastic and arrogant and maybe just a little bit mean; a constant Tom and Jerry chase with all his other members and a cackle whenever he teased them.

But, underneath it all, Kihyun was still a fragile person. Over the years of the spotlight glaring on his skin and hair and layers of makeup he seemed to forget that his porcelain surface could shatter so easily and yet the cracks that start to form went unnoticed until he broke.

When Kihyun cried, he cried in private.

Because the members had their own problems. Sometimes they talked about it, over spicy ramen when they weren’t dieting, or after practice or at the gym or curled up in changing rooms between performances with the other members passed out cold from exhaustion or hunger or both. They were all scared that perhaps who they were was lost under their stage presence; Hyungwon was terrified he’d only ever just be a visual and Minhyuk was afraid of anything but perfection. Jooheon stuck between his passion for rap and unending requests for aegyo and Changkyun, introverted from rough teen years. Hyunwoo, with the biggest burden of all, the naturally shy leader who tried so hard to come out of his shell, his feelings raw and real but hidden by his ‘Robot’ persona. They were all hurting a little inside, and they didn’t mind, not really, because they loved their fans with all their heart and perhaps it wasn’t so bad when they got to make them smile.

Hoseok, however, was lonely.

Kihyun was lonely too.

When Kihyun looked back at it all, he figured that must have been the turning point, when Hoseok had told him he was lonely. Alone in the practice room together, both having stayed just for that little extra push, bodies exhausted and minds reeling and faces covered in sweat, Hoseok had turned to Kihyun with his back pressed against the misted mirror and said, “I’m lonely.”

Kihyun hadn’t said, “Me too.” He had nodded and frowned and asked why.

Because Kihyun was a fragile person, and if he let his feelings slip for just a second he might find himself breaking down.

Hoseok was lonely because he didn’t have anybody by his side. The older man’s voice had broken too many times to count as he’d listed all the little things he missed, like holding hands or walks along the riverfront or sending late-night pictures of silly faces way past his bedtime. His voice had grown thick with tears when he’d talked about how difficult it was to keep being _Wonho_. How, when he got up on stage and ripped his shirt off and made flirty jokes with the members, it was him but only a part of him. Sometimes he didn’t do it quite right and the fans noticed he was upset. Kihyun had almost cried himself when Hoseok had looked him straight in the eye and told him he didn’t know how much longer he could be alone.

Hoseok had always been an introverted person. The feelings he held close to his heart guided his mind when perhaps they shouldn’t, but the man spent far too many nights cramped alone in his studio with the anxiety he struggled with gnawing at his chest and fuelling his exhausted body to experience life outside of himself.

Kihyun had held him as he’d cried and wiped his tears with the sleeve of his jumper. He’d stroked calming circles along the broadness of his damp back, had told him that they were all suffering, and that if Hoseok ever needed anybody Kihyun would be there for him. No matter how big or small, Kihyun would be there to listen.

Hoseok had smiled and told him thanks through the tears on his face and when Hoseok left the dance room Kihyun watched him go with his breath held, a strange, confusing torrent of emotions threatening to drown him if he thought about breathing.

Because, for just a fleeting second, Kihyun had thought he could be the one to do those things for him.

Holding Hoseok’s hand would make him less lonely too.

Kihyun cried that night, and Kihyun cried alone.

  


 

 

It happened at their next fansign.

The hours had sped by in a blur of teenage faces - mostly girls, occasionally a boy - hand holding and laughing at jokes and using a thick black marker to sign albums and check post-it note questions. It had meant to just like normal and perhaps the change of the seating arrangement had thrown them a little bit off, but really, putting Hoseok next to Kihyun and changing Hyunwoo with Jooheon hadn’t bothered them all that much.

Until Hoseok had tapped him on the shoulder during a break. Kihyun had turned to him with his shoulders thrown back and eyebrow raised in that familiar scornful way his fans so often wrote about to find Hoseok holding up a little origami heart the fan previously had given him. Perhaps the younger man’s gaze had lingered a little too long on his lips, perhaps the sliver of his tongue that wet his own in nerves was picked up by the flashing of cameras around him, but Kihyun took the little paper heart and sat it just by his elbow. When one of the staff came to take it away Kihyun scowled at them and protected it with the palm of his hand. The audience of teenage girls cooed and sighed, wailing in their pitched voices about just how _cute_ him and Hoseok were.

Kihyun’s stomach twisted. They didn’t mean.. they didn’t mean how cute they were together, right? Kihyun avoided the shipping wars. He didn’t enjoy the idea of pitting two members with each other, that was just _weird_.

Kihyun looked up at Hoseok with wide eyes, innately afraid that perhaps his overprotectiveness of the little piece of torn paper folded so carefully had caused the other man to grow uncomfortable. As it was, Hoseok was looking at him too, a teasing glint in his eye and a brilliant smile on his face.

Kihyun blushed a violent red and turned back to the audience.

Throughout the rest of the fansign Kihyun couldn’t look at Hoseok. Not even for a second. His eyes were glued to each passing girl in front of him without actually being able to see them and his laughter was forced with words light and airy.

The slip of paper to his side burnt smouldering, spiteful holes in the corner of his vision.

The little origami heart. Hoseok’s little origami heart, the one he’d given to Kihyun. Hoseok had given him his heart.

Perhaps Kihyun looked too much into it. They were meant to appease the rules of fanservice anyway, maybe Hoseok just wanted to tease him a little and flirt with the other members to create some more buzz. It was nothing. Meaningless. Pointless to think it could be anything more.

Why did Kihyun want it to be more?

All of a sudden a warm hand touched his and he jerked back to reality to find himself face to face with a heavily perfumed girl who had brown highlights and too much foundation on. He smiled at her and told her she was pretty, and the girl blushed and giggled and slid him an album with a post-it note tacked to the front.

_'If you had marry one member, who would it be?'_

His heart skipped a beat.

Usually questions like that didn’t bother him. He knew what the Kihyun on stage was meant to do. He understood his persona would draw a new option labelled ‘Kihyun’ and circle it after because on-stage Kihyun believed he was the best. A sprinkle of spite, a dash of nagging and a whole load of arrogance, the recipe for the mother member of an idol group.

But this time Kihyun didn’t feel like being the person he was on stage. In hindsight he should have weighed the possible consequences of his actions, should have looked past Hoseok’s brilliant smile still haunting his mind and the little paper heart sat just beside his elbow, but in the moment Kihyun didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to know why he did what he did, didn’t want to know the meaning behind his thoughts.

He circled ‘Wonho’, and drew a little heart next to his name.

  


 

 

At first it had been Hoseok and Hyungwon, and then Jooheon and Changkyun and Hyunwoo and Minhyuk and the list went on and on. There were a few fan favourites the company had picked up on and so it was normal fanservice for them to fabricate little moments for their fans. None of them found it all that awkward because they were so close and the screams the crowd issued when they flirted with each other was enough to ease the tension. It was simply another facet of their job. Hyungwon and Hoseok were so popular the company almost forced them together, and when Kihyun watched Hoseok chase Hyungwon with a balloon whilst declaring his undying love, he could see why the fans found it so special.

Except, when Hoseok had broken down to him that one time, he had told him he hated it.

Hoseok hated always calculating each touch with his members, hated having to direct it at just a select few to fuel the fans favourite ships. He had confessed that it wasn’t the action itself that hurt him but the idea that he was exploiting a sexuality just for a few more reactions. Hoseok had looked him in the eye and told him people were dying because of who they loved and he felt so guilty parading around like it was some kind of joke to make fangirls scream.

The company had been quick to latch onto their ship. ‘Kiho’ was the new concept sweeping both Twitter and Weibo, Fan Café and Tumblr. Apparently their dynamic was the most interesting one yet, according to the marketing personnel Starship employed, because it was just so distressing. Hoseok, the lovely, kind, compassionate member of Monsta X and Kihyun, the spiteful mean one, who turned his nose up at the older man’s advances and left him pining on the floor.

Kihyun didn’t have the heart to tell them it was the other way around.

It wasn’t long after the photo of his post-it note answer began circling the internet that the company suggested they both get a little closer. It had been a strange phenomenon in the marketing world for idols. An article detailing the authenticity of the post-it note combined with exact snapshots of Kihyun signing it had gone viral on Naver, racking up more views and comments than a normal news report on their upcoming comeback or showcase.

At first Kihyun didn’t get it. All Idols participated in little fanservice moments, kisses on the cheek or cute backhugs, selfies or certain video pairings to get the fandom excited. What was another post-it note in the world of Lipstick Radio?

But then he realised it was him who was at fault. It was his on-stage persona of the cool, nagging member that had propelled this little sign of love so out in the open. It was so unusual for Kihyun to show any kind of affection above teasing tom-and-jerry chases that this post it note with a heart must have meant more than he was saying.

At least, that’s what the articles said.

It was late at night that Kihyun scrolled through the comments of said news article. They had just finished a broadcast in a Thailand and he was alone in his hotel room thanks to the rest of the members heading out for a post-concert meal. He hadn’t felt that hungry – in fact, there had been a creeping sense of nausea building in his stomach since Minhyuk had teased him that morning about how there were now more than twenty articles detailing every little touch between him and Hoseok.

The thought had made him feel sick. He couldn’t look at Hoseok throughout the concert, couldn’t even follow through with his flirty smiles and funny jokes. It had all been too much, each second had left him itching to open his laptop and find out what they were really saying about him and his band member.

**_**_\- I wonder if they are really married._ ** _ **

Kihyun’s breath caught in his throat reading the top comment. It had over a thousand upvotes – no other article about them had that much, surely this was just a fluke?

At least he thought it was, until he clicked the down button once again and his heart almost stopped beating.

_**\- cute little kihyunnie loves his hoseokkie** _

_**\- I ship hyungwonho, but I can’t deny there was something in the way they looked at each other** _

_**\- hyungwonho for life .** _

_**\- it’s kiho now !!!!** _

Kihyun swallowed thickly around the sickly syrup coating his throat and dragged the scrollbar down further.

**_fansignmoment.mp4 -_ did you see the way Kihyun looked at him at 0:53??? What did Hoseok give him? There was exchange of something. Look at their hands at 0:50**

**- _ _THIS source says it was a piece of paper. Maybe a love letter?__**

**_\- Twitter user allin_mx says she was at the fansign. It was a paper heart. Like an origami one_ **

**_\- a paper heart?_ **

**_\- I don’t believe it. Can you link me to the source?_ **

**_\- sure._ _here_ **

Kihyun clicked on the link. Sure enough, the Twitter video that popped up was one of Hoseok’s most famous fansite’s recording of them at the table during their break. Kihyun watched with his breath held as the camera tracked the visuals movements, watched him fiddle with something in his palm and give a fleeting look to Kihyun, who was currently laughing into the microphone and pointing at somebody in the audience.

He watched as Hoseok bit his lip and tapped him on the shoulder.

He watched as his face transformed into that brilliant, dorky smile that echoed a thousand gleaming stars as Kihyun turned to face him. He watched his own mouth form a little ‘o’ as Hoseok passed him the little paper heart – the camera zooming into their hands as their fingertips brushed – and when the screen panned out Hoseok had already turned back to the new row of fans shuffling along the seats.

The Kihyun in the video blinked once, then twice, and his eyes sparkled with something as they refused to move from the blonde man next to him.

Kihyun closed his laptop. He felt sick, his throat burning with words unsaid and chest so tight he couldn’t breathe.

By the time Minhyuk returned to the hotel room they shared Kihyun was pretending to sleep. The origami heart lay on his bedside, untouched but close enough to comfort.

Later that week the company made it obvious something had to be done. Starship couldn’t – _wouldn’t_ \- let a marketing opportunity like that go to waste. It was too good to be true, the attention they were getting, and if they dragged it out a little longer to the next comeback they might get the exposure they needed to break into the Korean market as well. All In had only been a success within the fandom and just barely and while Stuck had charted higher on melon than ever before it still was not enough. They needed more.

They had planned the dynamic to the specifics – Hoseok would make cute, cheesy advances, and Kihyun would reject him every time. It was perfect really, because they could keep the ship new and interesting and generate more content for the fans to engage in no matter what the situation presented itself as.

When Kihyun had sat in the stiff office chair with his back aching and tired eyes stinging from exhaustion, he had swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded his agreement to the concept.

It pained Kihyun more that ever to have to turn Hoseok down every time but he agreed. What else could he do? It was his job to pretend. If that job involved pretending to be attracted to Wonho (not Hoseok, Kihyun told himself sternly. Only Wonho) then he would follow through as best as he could, no matter how many of his delicate heartstrings ached from being plucked so cruelly.

 

 

 

 

The first time Hoseok held his hand was while on a mission for some cheap Variety Show.

He couldn’t remember what the show was called but the main vocal put that down to his running of two hours of sleep during promotions. It was better than the one hour of sleep the night previously after the dreadful recording on The Show but their status as newbie in the industry and lack of exposure despite their well-known company meant the directors cared less about their undereye bags and more about herding them through a haunted house that was only scary because of its terrible design.

“Hey, Kihyunnie!” Hoseok’s warm, raspy voice echoed through the dark chamber behind him. “Hold my hand? The zombies are scary.”

“Aren’t you meant to be the muscle man?” Kihyun scowled, sweeping the torch in his hand in wide circles and watching the beam of light bounce off the man hauling the bulky camera trained on his face a few steps ahead.

“It’s okay. You will protect me! Kihyunnie always protects me.”

Kihyun’s blood ran cold and goosebumps prickled along his skin. What did Hoseok mean by _that?_

Just as he had moulded choice spiteful words on the flat of his tongue and was ready to throw them in the older man's direction he suddenly felt the unmistakable warmth of a hand sliding into his own. Their palms rubbed together to create a strange friction between Hoseok’s gym calluses and Kihyun’s smooth fingers.

His breath hitched in his throat as he stared at their entwined hands. Distantly he was aware that Hoseok was speaking, whining about the dark as he looked around melodramatically (a good show for the cameras. Hoseok had always been good at this) but all of Kihyun’s attention has zeroed in on his skin against the visuals pale fingers. All other noise seemed to fade into the background as his thoughts became entirely focussed on the slight pinch of their thumbs or the clamminess rubbing their palms or the bump of their wrists as they were forced together.

“Kihyun?”

Hoseok’s voice slammed him back to reality and he jumped like he’d been hit by a speeding truck.

“Is there something wrong? Are you scared?”

The main vocal fixed his bewildered gaze on the visual standing next to him. The gentle slopes and pretty angles of his face were highlighted by the dim light of the haunted house and yet there was something unreadable just behind the molten orange of his eyes. A layer of warning, of caution, of _pull away now_ while Kihyun just stood dumbfounded.

Kihyun’s fragile heart had cracked just a little when he’d wrinkled his nose and pulled away as quickly as he could.

Hoseok’s hand had been so warm. He’d wanted to hold it forever.

“I’m not scared,” he scoffed, brushing his damp palms against the rough material of his jeans and pushing past the camera man to avoid the lenses picking up on his flustered face. “Let’s keep moving. We need to figure out this puzzle.”

Later that week Kihyun sat alone in the dorm, curled up on the coach with bare feet tucked under his thighs and whirring laptop placed delicately across his lap. Sleep had evaded him for most of the night despite their evening being schedule free and at some point he had found himself drowsily browsing the endless Naver articles tagged with ‘#Monsta_X’ to assure himself of the positive reaction to the broadcast of their haunted house episode.

Chewing on a protein bar he’d stolen from Hoseok’s not-so-secret stash under the shoebox, Kihyun’s mouth ground to a stop and he swallowed painfully around the half-broken oats when he read the first comment.

**_- They’re so dating. ‘Kihyunnie always protects me’???? what does always mean ??!!_ **

It had over three hundred upvotes.

Kihyun felt sick. The wrapper of the protein bar crinkled as he set it gingerly down on the arm of the couch.

_**kihozip9.gif – do you see this gif?? Kihyun looks at Wonho like he’s his world** _

_**- hearteyes.zip – I found this on a Naver forum. look, they make heart eyes every two seconds** _

_**\-  that second gif kills me!** _

_**\- when will starship say they’re dating ??? their company has always been supportive. just look at k-will and All In, I wouldn’t be surprised if** **kiho** **were together.** _

_**- when will Kihyun stop rejecting him and confess his undying love???** _

Kihyun shut his laptop down.

There came the gentle thud of the front door clicking closed followed by a tired sigh and Kihyun looked up guiltily to find Hoseok stood in the doorway of the apartment, gym clothes damp and hugging his body, hair pushed back and eyes so droopy with tiredness they almost seemed to drown in his dark circles.

“Hey,” he choked out, voice thick and sticky with protein bar remains and tiredness.

Hoseok nodded briefly as he slipped off his shoes and Kihyun inhaled sharply when he sunk onto the sofa next to him. Their shoulders touched and the main vocal stayed frozen, tense and unbreathing, as the older man leant his head into his shoulder so his blonde hair tickled Kihyun’s neck and the pressure of his body was evident.

He smelt like lemongrass soap and musky deodorant and the mint gum he always chewed to keep himself awake.

It was only minutes later – just as Kihyun had reopened his laptop to start drifting through the comments once again – that he realised the exhausted breathing of the man leaning on his body had mellowed into a slow rhythm and his head had relaxed against his neck.

Kihyun did not want to wake him so he slept on the sofa that night still in his clothes.

When he woke in the morning Hoseok had already left for another wearisome hour at the gym. He didn’t say anything about it at practice later either, almost as if it had never happened.

  


 

 

It was too easy for Kihyun to believe that what he was on screen was who he was inside. His entire career was based on a personality fabricated by his company, mostly his own aspects but a stronger dynamic, each member representing a different ideal characterised by the fans and then thrown together as pairs.

On screen Kihyun had a flirty, teasing relationship with Hoseok, his fellow group member, but he didn’t like him back. There were butterflies in his stomach whenever the older man so much as looked his way, but it was okay, because on screen Kihyun didn’t like him back.

The problem was that the butterflies didn’t disappear when he was off screen either.

He thinks that’s where his problems stemmed from. The moment he stumbled practising choreography because he’d been busy watching Hoseok’s arms move under the harsh light of the dance room, the moment his voice had cracked halfway through a recording because Hoseok had laughed in the Studio beside him, the moment his gaze began lingering on the other man’s torso the many time they changed together; they could all be attributed to other things. He'd tripped on his shoelaces, his voice couldn’t reach that note, he’d been looking for his own shirt around the room.

What couldn’t be attributed to other things was how he felt so nervous around the other man, how each brush of their skin lit fires across his body, how each time they spoke he could feel his stomach in turmoil.

How when he looked at Hoseok’s pretty, pink lips, all he could think about was kissing him.

Which was strange really, because Kihyun had always thought he was straight, and yet daydreaming about kissing another man while he held him close in his bed was definitely not a straight thing to do.

It was in an interview segment in the lead up to their new comeback when he felt the cracked pieces of porcelain that had sewn together his fragile persona first be picked apart. He couldn’t remember what they were doing or what they had been asked about for he was far too distracted by the hunched way Hoseok sat on the red stools and the choker dangling on his pale neck.

“My ideal type is a girl who can cook ramen well,” Hoseok’s pouting, pillowy mouth spoke against the microphone.

“You mean Kihyunnie?” Hyungwon teased. Kihyun’s stomach dropped to the floor and he looked up at the visual in masked outrage.

“Yeah! I like Kihyun,” Hoseok grinned and the audience cooed. Kihyun felt his eyes widen on instinct. This was more than just flirty glances and subtle hand holding and playing around at fansigns. Hoseok couldn’t just state that he liked Kihyun on a broadcast, he just _couldn’t_. Kihyun could feel the panic rise like a wave in his throat and his cheeks grow hot as he dragged his gaze back to Hoseok’s. The blonde man was looking at him with something unreadable in his eyes, something soft and comforting that reassured Kihyun that he knew what he was doing. That he wouldn’t take it too far.

“But I’m a man,” he said timidly, unsure, eyes flickering between Hoseok’s kind ones and the stares of the audience.

“As long as you can cook ramen well, gender doesn’t matter,” Hoseok spoke into the microphone, his pouted mouth and rough voice so familiar to Kihyun, and yet his tone was so serious Kihyun couldn’t look away. The butterflies fluttered wildly in his chest and threatened to choke him. “I love you!”

Kihyun gaped at him. He was vaguely aware of another member holding his wrist roughly and waving it in the air as they whooped and hollered and the small audience screamed and waved their fans.

Eventually he gave shy smile at the fans and motioned with his arm in the air as if to say he’d won.

Won what? Hoseok’s love?

Kihyun didn’t speak much for the rest of the interview but the blush never faded from his cheeks.

  


 

 

A month or two later they were practicing late again after a few days break from schedule. They’d been given the weekend to rest and recharge – Jooheon, Minhyuk and Changkyun went bowling every night while Hyunwoo and Hyungwon camped out in restaurants – but the respite was short lived and soon they were back to pushing their bodies to the limit and forgetting what it meant to not be exhausted.

When they had danced all three title tracks in a row and were dripping sweat down red faces they decided it was enough. However, as the rest of the members shuffled to pack their things and wipe the water from their brows, Kihyun stay sat in a tired heap on the floor as Hoseok plugged his headphones into his phone.

“You two staying?” Jooheon asked as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

Kihyun nodded as he re-tied his shoelaces and Hoseok offered a grunt in agreement.

“Don’t overwork yourselves,” Hyunwoo cautioned as he dragged the door shut behind them. “Be home before six.”

The handle clicked into place and they were left in silence.

Neither of them spoke as they practiced. Hoseok had his headphones in with his phone tucked into his pocket, repeating the choreography for Rush and All In until his shirt was more wet dark blue than turquoise. Kihyun used the speakers to practice the chorus of each song, the thrum of the music coursing through his body as he went through each movement and sung as stable as he could. Over and over again until it was drilled so deep in his muscles he’d be doing the combination in his sleep. Over and over again until he was sure he could sing harmonies while running a marathon at six minutes a mile.

When Kihyun had had enough halfway through a set he collapsed in a heap by the speaker but didn’t bother turning it off.

At some point Hoseok also pulled out his headphones and leant exhausted against the foggy surface of the mirror. Condensation created a halo around his pale form, lips and face pink and swollen from exertion and sweat dripping in rivulets down his face and heaving chest.

Kihyun swallowed and looked away quickly.

“Did I distract you at all?” Hoseok asked, stretching out his limbs as he made his way over to where Kihyun was sat.

Kihyun shook his head. “No. I was practicing my repetitions.”

Hoseok sank to the floor when he got closer and crawled the last few steps in tired defeat. The visual seemed to reach to flick the button of the speaker, effectively plunging them into silence only filled by heavy breathing, before lazily flipping himself over to lie his head on Kihyun’s lap sprawled out on the cold dance room floor.

“What are you doing?” Kihyun laughed at his absurdity and tried to ignore the rapid rise of his heartbeat. He had just finished exercising, that was why his blood was pumping at a hundred miles per hour, not for any other reason that involved a head on his lap.

Hoseok laughed in his exhaustion, the high of tiredness seeping into his bones and procuring the most lightheaded, happy sound of summer and autumn and spring. “Your lap is comfy. If you move I’ll sue you.”

“I’m going to sue you first.”

“Why, because I’m so cute?”

Kihyun laughed his cackling laugh and pinched Hoseok’s red cheeks between one hand. “Sorry, your honour. His defence against my claim is not applicable, one cannot simply be cute because they want to.”

They fell into silence after that. The man with his head in his lap flickered his eyes closed and Kihyun traced the bridge from his forehead to his lips. The contact sent shivers up his hot skin.

“Anybody ever told you your ears stick out a lot?” Kihyun said bluntly.

“Kihyun, the fans call me a bunny. I’m perfectly aware of my stupid ears,” the man beneath him chuckled. “Did you know I found an entire comment thread just of pictures of my ears the other day? It had over six hundred upvotes. Strange.”

Kihyuns hand stilled and he asked cautiously, “You read comments too?”

“Of course.”

“Do you… do you see what they say about us?” the main vocal asked breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Hoseok laughed softly and his eyes flickered open. “Yeah, we’re a cute couple Kihyunnie. You’re so good at this, at being an idol, at everything.”

The butterflies in Kihyun’s stomach flapped their pretty wings and gnawed at his lungs.

“Does it still bother you having to pretend like this?” he asked after a moment of silence. Hoseok seemed to think for a second, brow furrowed with concern and eyes wary as he spoke.

“...A little. But there’s nothing I can do. I’ve done this with Hyungwon and I’ll do it with you, too… it’s easier because you’re both mature. I trust you,” Hoseok said simply. When he caught Kihyun’s worried stare, his face broke out into a smile that echoed sunshine on a new spring day. The crescent moons of his eyes and crinkle of his nose pooled warmth deep in Kihyun’s stomach. “Don’t look so worried Kihyunnie. I’ll hold your hand forever, promise.”

At that Hoseok shifted his arm to squeeze the hand Kihyun had been using to pick at his ears. His hand was damp and far too hot but the main vocal didn’t mind. He simply exerted a little pressure back and tried to ignore how at home he felt with Hoseok’s smile so close to his.

He seemed to feel a little less lonely already.

 

 

It was Fighter Era in which they fell apart.

It was instinctual really, that each one of them would break just a little more, that each of them would wonder if anything was really worth it. Kihyun listened to every member's problems and helped as much as he could but he never told of his own struggles since he only ever cried alone.

Their comeback had not been as successful as anticipated. Growing groups were meant to have a steep curve of success, not a faltering title song and low digital rank. Their album sold well, better than many other groups of their age, but their songs never charted and it took a toll on them even when they didn’t mean it to.

To them it seemed as if their fans were buying the album to support the members, not the songs. Their fans had fallen in love with Monsta X and not their music.

It meant appearances were of the utmost importance. Their personalities were the only thing that had kept them going, it was now or never to be who they were on stage.

It was their contrasting hair colours that really brought ‘Kiho’ into the limelight that winter. Kihyun’s candy-floss hair and Hoseok’s blue-tipped locks were enough to inspire fanart across the globe since any pictures of them together were complementary and people thrived off their interactions.

Kihyun would be lying if he didn’t enjoy the attention.

Not from their fans, but his fellow group member.

Hoseok was going through a tough time – anybody could see. He was alone most nights in his studio and Kihyun barely spoke to him at practice, but on stage? In interviews? Above the hundreds of screaming fangirls? Hoseok _tried_. He held Kihyun’s hand when they bowed, he sent him flirty winks and laughed at his misdemeanours and wrote hearts on post-it notes next to the younger man’s name.

It almost seemed like Hoseok actually liked him. Like his constant craving of contact was more than just fan-service, like the blue-haired man automatically gravitated towards Kihyun whenever he was feeling low, and Kihyun loved it. He loved the butterflies in his stomach and the breathless feeling of lightheaded happiness.

“One time I proposed to Kihyun over ramen, but he said no!”

The audience around them laughed. The interviewer laughed. Hoseok played off as a sad pouty man by hitting Kihyun’s shoulder playfully and sulking to the audience.

Kihyun had forgotten he was supposed to be performing for the camera but the bright glaring lights snapped him back to reality quickly.

“I could never marry somebody as messy as you,” he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as Hoseok fell dramatically onto the member behind him.

But he could.

Oh, Kihyun could.

  


 

 

At the next Seoul Music Awards the red carpet had been expanded to involve stations. Hyungwon had grumbled about the producers copying the Western take on interviews while they were changing and Jooheon had shut him up by shovelling a beef sliver into his mouth.

To tackle the many new aspects they had been told by management to visit each booth in groups to hopefully get more camera time and exposure. It was a clever marketing ploy, all of them could see that, and it just so happened Kihyun, Hoseok and Hyungwon had split off into a group and headed straight for the interviewer about fashion. That was fine for them because Kihyun was good at talking and Hyungwon was good at elaborating abstract ideas. Hoseok had never liked interviews as it spiked his anxiety and so it was no wonder he hung back quietly as the other members talked and laughed smoothly.

As he was explaining the design of their suits (cut down the centre and complimenting his pink hair) he felt arms snake around his waist and a head of blue hair rest on his shoulder. Kihyun paused mid-sentence to look at Hoseok who had a content smile on his face to mask the obvious ripple of nerves hidden just underneath.

It didn't take long for Kihyun to realise that the older man had come to him for comfort when it all got a little too much to bear.

“Smile at the camera.”

The voice sounded from off to their right and Kihyun looked up sharply.

“Wait-” he began, panicked, but the flash had already flickered three times accompanied by the tell-tale sound of a shutter.

“Aw, what a cute couple picture!” The interviewer laughed her forced high pitched laugh. Lipstick bled into the cracks around her teeth.

“Kihyun doesn’t like the word couple. He prefers partner,” Hoseok smiled softly. His smooth persona and wink elicited an amused laugh from the interviewer but Kihyun didn’t get the joke. His chest seized up, breath halting and mind racing, because Hoseok _had_ _not just said that_. Hoseok could _not_ have just said that.

Out of every flirting misendeavour that had left his pouty lips none of them had been so _obvious_.

The older man knew how that sounded, right? He was not stupid. There was no conceivable way he didn’t understand that the passing comment he’d just played off like a joke could be twisted and manipulated by all those comments online to present a scenario in which ‘Kiho’ were dating and even went by partners.

They weren’t _partners_ . That’s what people who were together called themselves, and Kihyun and Hoseok _were not together._

Hoseok let go of his waist when they moved onto the next interview booth. Kihyun tried not to miss his warmth.

  
  


 

“We have to talk,”

The blue-haired man washing his hands next to him frowned. His dewy skin was glistening under the light of the bathroom, the smoky makeup of his eye and glitter brushed across his cheek sparkling in the mirrors reflection.

“About?” Hoseok asked curiously.

Kihyun swallowed. “Us.”

“What about us?”

The main vocal froze. When he had suggested they both take a toilet break during a ballad performance at the awards, he had been meaning to ask just what they were. Little ants had been biting away at his thoughts and crawling through his limbs as he'd shifted in his seat until he just couldn’t take it anymore. Hoseok’s lingering hands could still be felt around his waist and his hair still ticked his chin and he just wanted to know what it _meant_.

“Starship, uh.. they, um-” Kihyun winced as he stumbled over words he plucked right from the area of his brain that facilitated lies. “They pulled me into a meeting the other day. They want us to provide more fanservice moments.”

The guilt bubbled under the surface of his skin but he ignored it.

“Oh, really?” Hoseok finished drying his hands on a paper towel and leaned forward to fix a stray strand of blue in the mirror. “Was that when I was getting icecream?”

“Yeah,” Kihyun breathed, an easy smile forming on his face around the lie heavy in his heart. “They said just.. just more touches. More talking. You know, if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“I’d never be uncomfortable with you Kihyunnie,” Hoseok’s brilliant smile made his heart jump in his chest. It stopped beating altogether when a pale hand landed gently on his shoulder. “I know we had our differences after debut, but I really look up to you, you know? You’ve done so much for the group.”

“It’s nothing.” Kihyun choked out.

Hoseok’s hand lazily slid down his back to wrap around his waist and then he gave a teasing grin. “C’mon then, let’s go out and put on a show, eh?” Hoseok’s fingers squeezed at the slight pudge above Kihyun’s tight belt and the main vocals breath hitched at the contact. “Should we get dinner after?”

Kihyun looked up at him with shining eyes. The butterflies in his stomach had mutated. They were now hummingbirds, flapping at a hundred miles per hour in his chest and pecking at his insides.

Hoseok was too kind. He didn’t mean it, not in that way.

“Yeah,” he breathed with a smile. “Yeah, let’s get dinner after.”

  


 

Dinner went smoothly. It was only them, and Kihyun learned that while Hoseok was quiet during interviews because of his anxiety, he was also quiet at mealtimes. The pink-haired man already knew that from the times they had eaten together as a group but not alone when a lack of conversation was obvious – never alone. The main vocal was ashamed to admit that in the beginning neither of them had got on very well. Kihyun was too sharp, too easily poked and prodded to a painful angry point, whereas Hoseok was mellow and emotional and rarely found the means to be angry. When he did get angry it was not because of some meaningless taunting but rather a complete drowning in emotions. Hoseok got overwhelmed easily, and if the water in his lungs didn’t swell to rush out of his eyes as tears than it beat through his veins as fire and raised his voice so loud it hurt.

Hoseok wasn’t angry after the Seoul Music Awards. He was soft and quiet and tired – the other members were eating together, but apparently Hoseok didn’t want to eat together, and as such they ended up at a sushi restaurant at three in the morning with the gentle thrum of lo-fi music dancing across their skin.

Sat in silence as they chewed cucumber rolls and seaweed tucked into a little booth meant for one and not two, Kihyun found himself content.

At some point, when the sky outside was at its darkest and the neon signs of the shop cast pretty colours against his skin, Kihyun let his head rest on the older man’s shoulder. He began to fiddle with his hands, pulling at his fingernails and entwining them every so often as Hoseok calmly adjusted and ate with just one hand.

Neither of them said a word but Kihyun didn’t mind.

Later that morning the faint glow of his phone screen illuminated the otherwise dark hotel room as Kihyun thumbed through the comments section of Naver with Minhyuk’s gentle breathing from the other bed calming his nerves. He hadn’t slept, having only returned to the rooms an hour ago, but he didn’t mind.

_**-  dispatch.kiho.jpg: No** _ **_offense_ , but nobody can deny they’re real now.**

The top comment boasted an embedded article of the photographer who had captured the moment when Hoseok's blue lemongrass hair had tickled his cheek with arms around his waist and he’d been surprised by the flash of the camera.

 **_**_-_**_** **__Do you think Wonho cares about his past scandals? “He prefers the term partner” seems far too daring._ _ **

    _**- Does he know anything about how that could be taken in Western culture?**_

_**- He said Kihyun prefers it. Perhaps.** _

_**- honestly this is all a little too real for me haha. Are they actually dating??? Please can my otp be real???** _

Kihyun smiled sleepily at his phone and pressed the upvote for the final comment without thinking.

 **- _mxseoulawardscam.mp4 -_** **_**do you see this? Kihyun fits between Wonho’s ar** ms so perfectly, he was practically sitting on his lap the entire awards ceremony. I hope they’re real._ **

He rest soundly that night, with the ghost of Hoseok’s arms lulling him to sleep.

 

 

 

Chankgyun and Hoseok were holding hands.

Kihyun felt sick watching them.

He shouldn’t have felt sick. The rancid taste of stomach acid should not have been crawling up his throat nor should the jealousy have been churning his stomach into bitter thoughts but he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. Hoseok and Changkyun looked so _perfect_ up there together, the stage lights hitting their skin prettily and highlighting the pocketed scars on the younger’s face as they acted out a scene from a drama.

Who’s idea had it been to go through with this segment anyway? It was stupid. Kihyun hated it.

“A kiss from a Grim Reaper will help you remember a previous life…” Changkyun said dramatically, inching his hands up the soft skin of Hoseok’s neck to clasp gently at his cheeks. From the angle of his seat Kihyun could see the sad shine of the older man's eyes. He had always been a brilliant actor, even before debut, his ability to fall perfectly into character and show sadness through such simple facial expressions left those around him in awe. However, despite knowing it wasn’t real, seeing him stare at Changkyun like he was the love of his life was the equivalent to him reaching into Kihyun’s chest, ripping his heart from its place and stamping it into the floor.

“Let’s only remember good memories…” Changkyun stage-whispered. As he leant into Hoseok to mimic the drama scene the older man did not pull away. He stared at Changkyun like he was his world, like he would do anything and everything to make him okay, like he wanted to kiss him.

But Kihyun wanted to kiss him and he felt sick.

Then Changkyun twisted his hands in a joke to snap his neck and the magic spell broke.

Hoseok caught Kihyun’s nauseous gaze the second the illusion shattered and something unreadable passed between them.

Kihyun didn’t look at him the rest of the interview. He didn’t want to.

  
  


 

Kihyun was falling apart, and so he turned to other things to make it better.

It was subtle at first. He would fold his shirts in his suitcase twice instead of once to fix the wrinkle across the front. He’d lock the door and then lock it again to make sure it was locked right. When Minhyuk turned off the light he’d ask him to click it until the sound _worked._

He knew it was a problem when he was given the task to cook for the members that night, since he went home early from recording their new B-side and had the time to make a dinner before they returned. Noodles were the go-to and he was good at throwing together some packets and seasoning – except this time nothing was going right. The pan kept boiling too soon, the noodles clumped together weirdly and it irritated Kihyun so much he dumped them in the bin and tried again. Then he shook in three spoonfuls of herbs, not two, and the tears of frustration welled up in his eyes as he once again drained the pan and filled it up with water.

Kihyun didn’t know _why_ he cared so much. He supposed he was broken, somewhere. He supposed his cracked porcelain had been thrown a little too hard against the ground at some point and left him shattered on the floor, although he had no time to attempt to pick up the pieces when he just had to make dinner _right._

On the third attempt, after all sense of time had evaded him and he was venturing to set the table while the pot bubbled on the stove, the door to the dorm clicked shut quietly and the sound of somebody shuffling their shoes off echoed through the quiet halls. It was only one person.

When Hoseok walked in on Kihyun picking up and putting down the chopsticks on the table to try and get them _just right_ he dumped the bags he was carrying by the door and hurried over to steady his shaking hands.

“No,” Kihyun jerked backwards, voice shaky as he tried to set turn the chopsticks until they looked okay. “It has to be perfect-”

Hoseok frowned at the tone of his voice. “Not everything has to be perfect Kihyun. You can have a little imperfection sometimes.”

Kihyun wasn’t having it. He shook his head wildly. “Not now. Not with this.”

“Why do you care so much about making everything perfect?” Hoseok asked softly, concern staining each word.

“Because. . Because it just _has_ to be.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Yes! Yes it does!” Kihyun shouted, throwing the chopsticks at the table with fury and fear shaking his small body. “It has to be perfect. This plate has to go there, the chopsticks have to be at exactly ninety degrees, the flower on the vase must face the door. It just has to.”

“Kihyun?”

The main vocal was pulling at his hair and waving his shaking arms towards the table. “If it doesn’t, everything will fall apart, okay? If everything isn’t perfect, if you don’t fit the pieces together the whole dinner will be ruined, and nobody will be happy and it will be all my fault!”

As soon as the words escaped his lips an invisible hand reached up to curl around his throat. It choked him, cutting off his blood supply, pressing into the supple curves of his neck and building a sharp, throbbing pain in the back of his throat that exited as a sob.

Kihyun fell to the floor as he started to cry. Burying his head in his hands he sobbed and sobbed, trembling hands kneading harshly at his eyes and big ugly cries shuddering in a throat usually used for melodic high notes and pretty harmonies.

Kihyun always cried alone.

This time he wasn’t alone.

“Shh.” The soothing voice murmured quietly in his ear and he vaguely felt big arms wrapping around his crumpled form.

“What are you doing?” Kihyun snapped but his voice was fragile and his face was wet with tears and snot that he wiped away violently.

“Making you feel better,” Hoseok said softly. The mellow palm of his hand rubbed gentle circles into his tense back and Kihyun choked out another broken sob, fingers wrapping around the fabric of his t-shirt as tears wet the surface. “Relax. I didn’t realise it was such a big deal to you. I’m sorry Kihyunnie.”

“Do you hate me?” Kihyun sniffed. Hoseok smelt like lemongrass and mint once again, the husky undertones of aftershave pleasant and manly and wrapping Kihyun in the warm feeling of protection.

“What?” Hoseok’s frown was evident in his voice.

“You’ve been distant recently,” Kihyun replied, sniffling. “Do you hate me? Is that it? You hate me like you did when we first met?”

“Kihyun, love, no.” Hoseok’s voice was soft and yet the main vocal ignored how his heart reached out for the casual pet name and wrapped its tender fingers around it. “Of course I don’t hate you. Sure you’re a little annoying sometimes but-” The gentle man took a shuddering breath and his hand pressed harder into his back, “But I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“Thank you Hoseok.” Kihyun said quietly. The other man didn’t reply but held him until the tears stopped staining his t-shirt.

  
  


 

At their next interview they were given microphones to work with.

The lights were so bright and Kihyun couldn’t think. His breath was too quick and his head was spinning and no matter how many times his fingers curled around the cold end of the device it didn’t feel right. Why wasn’t it _right?_ He picked up the microphone again. His palms were too sweaty, he had to try again. And again, and his back was aching from bending down beneath the stool and the world was muffled like he was underwater and if he maybe did it one more time-

A gentle pressure appeared on his knee and he froze.

Kihyun looked up at the owner of the hand that had just slipped over his jeans and his heart stopped beating.

Hoseok had placed a hand on his knee to stop his shaking, and as Kihyun tried to remember how to breathe the older man moved his palm to gently entwine their fingers.

The main vocal did not know what to do with the implication that Hoseok – his Hoseok, sweet, kind, anxiety-riddled Hoseok who so often relied on Minhyuk to make him feel better – had been so attuned to his struggles he’d comforted him without needing to be asked. Despite no clarification, Hoseok had picked up the porcelain needle and stitched along a crack in Kihyun’s seams like it was nothing. Like he could just piece together a person and make them whole again.

That was the sort of comfort Kihyun craved. Somewhere deep inside his soul, buried under his spiteful persona and cackling laugh and harsh lines of his face, he craved the comfort of protection. Of solidarity. Of lemongrass and mint and musky aftershave.

He craved the comfort of lonely Hoseok who had promised to hold his hand forever.

Later that night, Kihyun and Hoseok stayed late to practice once again. It had become a recurring theme, with the older man heading off to the music studio afterwards and Kihyun taking the bus home after making sure he ate a protein bar and had a pillow in the room.

But that night after they had danced for an extra hour Kihyun switched the music off without thinking. His mind was racing as his chest heaved and his dry throat was scratchy with each passing breath.

Hoseok was obviously perplexed staring at him, since they had both been practicing to the same set. His amber eyes glittered under the late night lighting, sweat beading on his forehead and glistening across the chest beneath his loose tank top.

 _Be selfish_ , Kihyun’s thoughts said. _Be selfish. Be selfish. Do it. Be selfish._

Kihyuns mind chanted at him as he took the first tentative step towards the man before him.

_Do just one thing for yourself, Kihyun. Show him you want him too. Do it._

Kihyun closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together.

For the shortest of moments, Kihyun could taste lemongrass and mint.

But then Hoseok jerked backwards without warning.

“I’m sorry.” The apology immediately fell from his lips. He was confused, and conflicted, and there was this strange feeling of wrongness misting in his chest.

“Kihyun-” Hoseok’s began quickly

Kihyun’s breathing grew short and shallow and he shook his head frantically.

“Don’t. Forget it.”

“But-“

“Forget it,” his choked up voice wavered and he stepped backwards once, hating how Hoseok looked at him, amber eyes sparkling with pity.

_Pity._

Hoseok _pitied_ him.

All of a sudden the door to the dance studio burst open and in stumbled Jooheon, cup of starbucks coffee in his hand and smelling vaguely like vanilla rolls.

“Sorry, forgot my bag,” he slung the strap over his shoulder nonchalantly but paused when he saw Kihyun and Hoseok stood facing each other with the foggy mirror behind them and the music not playing. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing.” Kihyun said quickly. He didn’t meet Hoseok’s eye. “Are you heading back to the apartment?”

Jooheon nodded, and it didn’t take long for the main vocal to grab his bag and water bottle and follow him out the door.

The night air was cold as they stepped into the cab, but it did nothing to freeze the hatred boiling under Kihyun’s skin and threatening to engulf him whole.

 

 

 

Hoseok didn’t sit next to Kihyun at their next interview.

Kihyun picked up the microphone twelve times before setting it down and not touching it again.

Hoseok didn’t even notice.

If he did, he didn’t say a word.

  


 

 

The following night at dance practice the other members decided to leave early to go bowling, but as Kihyun was stretching to cool down, Hoseok made no move to the door with them.

“You two staying?” Hyunwoo asked as he juggled the van keys in his hand.

“Yeah,” Hoseok nodded. He didn’t look at Kihyun or ask if he wanted to. “We’re staying. Don’t worry, I’ll get us home by four.”

Kihyun swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. Shaky hands removed his phone from his pocket (the time was 01:34AM) but all the younger man did was begin to unthread his headphones from the messy bundle they had woven themselves into.

“Look-” Hoseok began slowly after the door had clicked shut behind Changkyun and the dance studio was plunged into tender silence.

Untangling the chords was hopeless – they were too closely entwined and he couldn’t pull one without disrupting another. “I didn’t need to stay,” Kihyun said. “But I guess I can go over my high note during All In. I need better breath control for that part. If you were thinking different don’t worry, I have headphones to practice alone.”

“..Kihyun.”

“Are you going over the Fighter choreography? I know you were having trouble with the transitions in the centre. I would help but I’m just as bad.”

“Kihyun.”

His hands stilled from where they had been unravelling a complicated knot. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry for reacting so harshly. The other day.” Hoseok explained softly. “I.. I was caught off guard. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Can we not talk about it, please?” Kihyun asked. His voice lacked the usual biting edge, and instead it just lay soft and vulnerable on the floor between them.

“Look, Kihyunnie, love,” Hoseok gently took his hands so the headphones fell to the floor with a clatter and Kihyun tried to ignore the erratic jump of his heart at hearing such a pretty nickname directed towards him. “I understand. And I’m sorry. And if you ever need to talk about anything, anything at all, I’m here for you. We’re both as lonely as each other.”

Hope was a beautiful thing. Even in darkness hope bloomed prettily, pink and splotched red petals unfurling and twirling and stretching towards the light that had caused its growth.

Slowly but surely Kihyun reached up his delicate hand to ghost across the soft skin of Hoseok’s cheek. He held it there shortly, for barely a second, and then closed the distance between their lips.

For a brief moment it was perfect.

Hoseok’s hand was placed oh-so gently on his waist. Their lips worked in tandem, the taste of mint mingling with sweat and the remains of the sweet pastry they’d devoured before practice.

Hoseok tasted like he smelt; of lemongrass and aftershave. His mouth was soft; pouty lips plump and nice to apply pressure to due to their little give. As their mouths moved together Kihyun felt his entire body engulfed in hot, hot flames that licked up his chest and ignited deep in his gut. Never before had he felt such terrible, overwhelming _desire_ , but soon enough he was pressing flush against the older man and grabbing at his hair and willing the butterflies in his stomach to escape through his mouth before they burned alive.

Then Hoseok shoved him away and poured ice cold water on the fire blazing inside him.

“Kihyun-” he gasped, pupils blown wide and lips red and swollen. “I can’t.”

“It doesn’t have to be feelings,” Kihyun rambled. Desperation tainted his voice and he stepped forward to grasp at his hand. “We can just kiss. No feelings.”

There was a pause.

“I can't because I don’t like men, Kihyun,” Hoseok said quietly.

Kihyun’s blood ran cold.

That didn’t make any _sense._ There was no logic in that – it just wasn’t _right_.

“But.. but you said gender doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. Insecurity leaked into his soft tones and threatened to tear his words apart.

Hoseok had tears in his eyes and he gently squeezed Kihyun’s limp hand before pulling his own away. “I’m not the same person I am on broadcast Kihyun. You of all people should know that.”

That was when the fragile world he’d built for himself came crumbling down.

The man he’d fallen for hadn’t been Hoseok, but Wonho. Wonho, casual flirt Wonho, cheeky gym rat Wonho, Wonho with the ambiguous sexuality and open-mindedness for all his fan, Korean pop group, idol member Wonho.

But that was Wonho, and this was Hoseok, and Kihyun had been stupid enough to fall for the one that wasn’t real.

In doing so, in loving his persona so deeply, he’d neglected to see the man underneath. The lonely man who just needed comfort in touches and casual contact and who didn’t want to kiss him back.

Hoseok didn’t want to kiss him back.

Hoseok didn’t _love him back_.

The pain was indescribable. So heart wrenching it felt real, so terribly confusing as his lungs peeled back from the heat like ash that fell as confetti to the floor and his stomach filled with ice cold liquid that threatened to swell in his strained throat and spill out the glass of his eyes. The careful porcelain cage that encased his heart had shattered along the ridges and each piece echoed as it fell to the dance floor beneath them.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His heart was beating erratically as it was clawed out it’s chest, heartstrings snapped at they pulled tight with the pain and lungs filling with lighter fluid. It was so painful and so devastating he just wanted it to end. How had he been so _stupid_?

Hoseok reached out with soft, large, familiar hands. “Don’t be, please-”

The main vocal shook his head and stepped backwards numbly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I thought things were different, I misread it -”

“No, no, Kihyun please,” Hoseok’s voice cracked like he was about to cry. “I didn’t realise you felt that way-”

“I don’t,” Kihyun breathed, and it took no time at all for him to pick up his bag with his lips still tingling with the remains of lemongrass and aftershave before he was out the door and leaving Hoseok far behind him.

It was a lie, but Hoseok didn’t need to know that.

 

 

 

Kihyun didn’t look at the other man for a week. Didn’t interact during the last week of their promotions, shut himself away in his hotel room and refused to sleep on the couch. It was easier that way, he thinks, when he didn’t need to force contact and avoid all confrontation. There was no risk of heartache when his heart lay dormant in his chest.

When their management attempted to put the two next to each other at the next fansign, Kihyun pulled the organiser aside to ask to swap with Jooheon at the other end of the table because ‘his stomach was upset’ and he’d like to be close to the bathroom. In the dorm he did not acknowledge his existence. His heart rate jumped and nerves tumbled in his stomach whenever they are in the same room (his mind reminds him of how soft his plump pink lips felt, and how gentle the guiding hand was on his waist) and so Kihyun went out with Minhyuk and then Hyunwoo and then even Hyungwon who he could usually not stomach for more than three hours simply because they were both people who needed a different kind of space.

The comments under each new performance expressed the fans concerns for their ship but Kihyun didn’t care anymore.

“I can’t do it,” Kihyun said that weekend, after a trip to their company building and a short appointment with the marketing managers of their group. “The fanservice. I can’t.”

The head marketing co-operator furrowed his wrinkled, wearied brow as he shifted the papers stacked on his desk and then adjusted the spectacles on his hooked nose. “Kihyun, this is a part of your job.”

“I know, and I respect that and I respect you and everything you have done for me, but-” The main vocal took a deep shuddering breath and forced every delicate drop of vulnerability to resonate in his voice. “But please. No more.”

The man frowned once again, beady black eyes scanning Kihyun’s fidgeting fingers and his panicked, shallow breathing, before bending his head in a short nod.

“Okay. I understand your boundaries. I will talk to the panel of our team and then inform the members that it is something you no longer wish to do.”

When Kihyun closed the white door to the meeting room the relief was quick to flood the dam gates of his body and lift him high above his head. However, the calm of his shaking hands and thoughts of never having to touch Hoseok again did nothing to quell the hollow ache of his heart that lay shattered in his chest.

“Hey. Hanbyun told us what happened,” Minhyuk said that night over dinner as he ladled ramen into his bowl from the steaming pot on the centre of the table. “Kihyunnie, if you felt uncomfortable with fanservice you could have just said.”

Kihyun shrugged and picked at the red pepper in his rice. “I know, but I felt bad. It’s my job.”

Hyunwoo grunted around his dumpling and pat his knee quickly. “We get it. People have boundaries. You’re allowed to have boundaries Kihyun.”

Kihyun smiled briefly but his hollow heart ached and no amount of soggy rice could fill the gaping void.

Without thinking his eyes flickered up to where Hoseok stood far away in the doorway.

Their gazes met briefly – the older mans amber eyes pained and knowing and apologetic – but Kihyun simply swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat and turned back to his food.

 

 

 

Later that year, Hoseok got a boyfriend.

Apparently his name was Hansung. They met at the gym since Hoseok had expressed his interest in building more muscle mass instead of toning like most idols do, and Hansung had stepped forward with a breezy smile fit with one gold tooth and a scratchy deep voice to offer his expertise on the subject. Soon enough they were inseparable, and one night during the preparations for their upcoming title track Beautiful Hoseok had announced with a giddy smile and nervous jitter that he and Hansung were dating.

Kihyun’s body had been numb the entire dance routine and he hadn't hit any notes right.

After practice they video called Hoseok’s new boyfriend. The members had always been chill about sexuality – they were in the entertainment industry after all, and Minhyuk had been very clear about his preferences from the start – but seeing Hansung grin and wave and laugh a deep throaty laugh as the members clambered over each other to talk to him made Kihyun nauseous. His shirt was damp from dancing and his throat hurt from singing live but the bile in his throat stung most of all.

Once glance at Hansung set the dying butterflies in his stomach alight. They burned and screamed and their crumbling wings seared at his insides.

Hansung was everything Kihyun wasn’t. Tall and bulky and orange with fake tan lining each outline of his muscles. His nose was flat, eyes round and teeth straight with hands so big they could cup his face.

Kihyun realised with a sinking heart that Hoseok had lied to him. Hoseok had told him he was straight and stupidly, naively, Kihyun had believed him because what else was he meant to do? Question his sexuality? No. The only reason Hoseok had given for not liking him back was because he didn’t like men and that was okay because Kihyun couldn’t change that, had to respect it, it was simple.

Except, now Hoseok had a boyfriend and that boyfriend wasn’t Kihyun.

Of course he had been stupid to believe it. They had all seen Hoseok’s predebut photos and while Hoseok rarely talked about his past the images spoke for themselves. Nightclubs and partying and painted nails and lips a hair's breadth from another teenage boy – it was so obvious.

Everybody filed out the practice room that evening but Kihyun stayed behind.

So did Hoseok.

“You told me you were straight.” Kihyun said dully. His body was numb as he watched Hoseok shut off his phone and refuse to meet his gaze.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly.

Kihyun laughed. It was bitter and dripping with pain. “You think this was any easier?”

“What you felt for me wasn’t real, Kihyunnie. It was a brief crush. I’ve had them before, it’s hard when you’re first discovering things-”

“Shut up.” Kihyun snapped. He wasn’t sure who was talking – himself or his onstage persona leaking through the cracks of his skin. He didn’t know who the real Kihyun was anymore but he could feel the pieces of his porcelain held flimsily together threatening to break as the sadness welled up inside. “You led me on.”

“It was fanservice.”

“Not to me!” Kihyun raised his voice but it cracked embarrassingly and heat flooded his face. “What about when we ate dinner together and we held hands? What about the late nights in the practice room? That wasn’t fanservice to me!”

“Then that’s your fault.” Hoseok said quietly.

He didn’t meet his eye.

The Hoseok he thought he knew had crawled so deep within his own shell that only hollowed words spilt past his lips.

Kihyun laughed. It was as hollow as Hoseok looked, head bowed, gaze trained on the floor beneath him and eyes shining with unspoken tears.

Kihyun turned and walked out the dance studio, leaving his heart on the ground behind him.

  
  


 

 

“Kihyun, what’s wrong?”

The brown-haired man pretended not to hear the concerned voice of his group member as he was curled into a ball on the bathroom floor the following night. The tiles below him were polished white with no signs of grout, although the second one across from the hotel shower was cracked along its right edge.

“Kihyun?” Minhyuk crouched down in front of him.

Kihyun pretended not to hear him once again.

Kihyun was good at pretending now.

Kihyun pretended it didn't break his heart seeing them together. He pretended not to notice them sneak around after dance practice, book individual hotels, go on coffee dates head to toe in black so the dispatch photographers didn’t find them.

He pretended it didn’t hurt when Hoseok held his hand like he’d promised to hold his.

He pretended it didn’t hurt, but it did.

Kihyun was a fragile person.

He had always been a fragile person, but maybe this time he was broken for good.

And this time, Hoseok wasn't around to pick up the pieces.

And that was okay because Hoseok didn’t love him back, and he didn’t have to love him back, and Kihyun accepted that there was nothing he could do to make him love him back. Kihyun stayed broken, and when he finally confided in Minhyuk – great listener Minhyuk, honest, kind Minhyuk – the red haired man comforted him with slim arms that didn’t hold the same softness as Hoseok’s and smelt like candyfloss not lemongrass.

“It’s okay Kihyun, it’s okay,” Minhyuk said soothingly, his usually sharp, annoying tones settling for something more dulcet as he comforted the main vocal. “Somebody will love you, that somebody is just not Hoseok.”

Kihyun thanked Minhyuk with a sniffle and a stiff wave and although Minhyuk tried to assure him that he couldn’t possibly leave him like this, the man shook his head and insisted he go and sleep before their performance that night. Kihyun would be okay. He had to be okay.

But Kihyun always cried alone.

He cried that night, thinking of Hoseok and the pale hands he would never get to hold. He didn’t want anybody to love him except Hoseok, but Hoseok could never love him back, because Hoseok was not Wonho and he didn’t know who he was anymore.

Kihyun thinks heartbreak may be the worst pain of all.

Loneliness doesn’t even compare.

  
  


 

 

The hardest thing Kihyun ever learns is that he is fragile but not broken.

The revelation came slowly. It’s warm edges ebb and flow deep within his chest and at first he doesn’t notice. At first he chose to ignore the waning yellow-orange light that flows below the dark caves of his mind like a monster waiting to be woken or molten rock crawling to the surface. But then, slowly, it dawned on him. The simple things began to catch his eye – the chip on the mirror in the dressing room of Music Bank, the blown lightbulb in their hotel room in Hongkong, the missing two sequins on Jooheon right arm jacket just before their first tour stop.

Because the mirror still worked. It still showed Hyungwon, fixing his fluffy hair against the harsh lights of the dressing room, eyes ringed in black and glitter on his cheeks. It may have had a chip in it, but that didn’t hinder its helpfulness.

The blown lightbulb in their hotel room may have been an inky grey in an otherwise warm orange-brown, but even though it failed to glow the lamp by the table and the chandelier in the bathroom and the inlaid ceiling lights provided more than enough light to function. A light may falter but others took its place. Whether those others be support of its friends or of oneself Kihyun didn’t know, but what he does know is that the room was still lit even with sections of darkness.

The jacket still kept Jooheon warm, even if it had been handled roughly before. A mere picking at his seams did not render it broken. A single blemish did not equate to uselessness

A human being can be fragile. They can have split seams in which sadness leaks out into a puddle on the floor or picked stitches hard to weave back together. The porcelain mould can crack and shatter and scatter across the floor, but it is only a part of the person it belonged to. 

A human being is not a cause and effect.

Kihyun couldn’t fix Hoseok’s loneliness because he was a human being. Hansung didn’t fix his loneliness, just held it at bay with big strong arms and a deep rough laugh much like Kihyun had when they ate alone together or spent time at the studio. It was just different needs they catered to, and though the idea of Hoseok kissing somebody who wasn’t him dripped poison into his mind he never failed to dig into the recesses of his brain and drain the venom before it hurt him.

And while it was difficult and terrible and the worst pain in the world, one day Kihyun picked up a needle with trembling hands and began to stitch himself back together. He has been stupid trying to sew Hoseok into the split seams because Hoseok didn’t belong there. Hoseok didn’t belong among the arrogant persona and teasing chases and insecurity buried under a sweet clear voice. Kihyun did not need Hoseok to fix him and fill the painful gaps in his demeanour because Hoseok was temporary. The only thing permanent to Kihyun was himself, whoever that may be.

On stage, Kihyun remained spiteful and arrogant and annoying. He teased Hyungwon relentlessly and threw insults at Minhyuk across the fan sign table. He squished Jooheon’s cheeks between the flat of his palms until the younger man whined so loud his ears hurt, and he even picked at Hyunwoo’s arms while he spoke (although he didn’t bite them, that was Changkyun’s job).

During their ending speech after their second fansign with the comeback Beautiful, they were all stood in a line while Minhyuk and Hyungwon bickered into the mics to their left.

The universe had a strange way of working fate, and it just so happened it had decided Hoseok and Kihyun would stand next to each other that day.

They didn’t talk – but that was okay, because they didn’t usually anymore (Kihyun saw the guilt in Hoseok’s eyes whenever he looked at him and it almost broke his heart) – but as they passed the microphone between them the fans cooed and sighed.

At some point a girl with bleached ends and fake eyelashes screamed so loud from the front row that even Kihyun couldn’t help but chuckle.

“ _Kiho!”_ her voice strained with the half-scream, half croak.

“What was that? Did I just hear something?” Kihyun laughed, but he poked at Hoseok’s wide shoulders as he did so.

The older blonde man looked at him in surprise but Kihyun paid him no mind. His chest ached subtly at his pretty wide eyes, but the warmth of their contact was comforting.

“He’s mine!” Kihyun snapped when Hyungwon wandered over to tug at Hoseok’s ears. As he spoke he wrapped his slim arms around his torso and stepped in front of the rapidly flashing cameras behind him.

Hidden from the shots, Hoseok’s eyes were confused and vulnerable and still layered in guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and the word held so much more weight that it should have.

Kihyun shook his head in a motion he hoped wasn’t perceived by the cameras behind him and offered a small, content smile. “I understand.”

When he pulled away, Hoseok’s face was so happy he looked like sunshine.

Like the sunshine that grew lemongrass on a delicate spring day.

  


 

 

_'If you had to marry one member in the group, who would it be?'_

Kihyun smiled to himself at the note written on tacky pink paper slipped into the album in front of him. Questions as an idol usually became repetitive, but this exact phrasing sparked memories hidden deep within his mind.

Kihyun pretended to think for a moment, entertain the eager teenage girl in front of him by dragging his pen across his lips, before writing a name down on the post-it note.

_'Changkyun <3'_

“Not Wonho?” The girl gasped when he handed back the signed album as if it was the most absurd answer in the world. “Why?”

Kihyun shrugged. “Changkyun cleans up after himself.”

The girl laughed, showing off a set of white teeth and a smudge of red lipstick on her canine before she was being shuffled along to the member next to him.

Hoseok went out with Hansung that night.

Kihyun minded a little, but at least his heart was whole.

  
  


 

‘ ** _Kiho is dead???_ ** ’

The title of the forum glared at him from its position on the fancafe. It was on a members group, and so while Kihyun knew he shouldn’t snoop within the fans own thoughts, he couldn’t help but be curious that night when he needed a little distraction in the otherwise quiet dorm.

 **_-_ ** **_We all know they’ve been distant recently, but today at a fansign (embed:khnote.png) he said he’d marry Changkyun_ _not Wonho ):_ **

**- _ _It’s probably just teasing!! We all know Kihyun’s like that.__**

**_\- Above poster is right. Kiho is as real as ever, they just don’t want to admit it._ **

For once, Kihyun let out a snort of soft laughter at the comments, shook his head fondly and scrolled down the site. The butterflies in his stomach had crawled back inside their cocoons and didn’t even stir at the thought of him and Hoseok together.

 _ **\- beautifulsign.kiho.gif** _**_Did you not see_ ** **_this_ ** **_moment? Kihyun was about to kiss Wonho. My friend was at the fansign – they did this after somebody shouted ‘Kiho’_**

**_**_\- So they are real????? Thank God_ ** _ **

**_\- I knew I could trust them. Kihyun, if you’re reading this, take care of Hoseok for me!!!_ **

Kihyun smiled fondly to himself. Deep within his chest his heart throbbed in pain, the scar tissue that had fused his heartstrings together still hurt if he tugged on them.

He couldn’t take care of Hoseok, but maybe Hansung would. It hurt but he was healing from it.

Kihyun was somewhat happy that night, as he went to bed exhausted from practice with aching limbs and droopy eyelids and a headache so bad it throbbed when he lay down on the pillow. He was content. Not entirely whole, not ecstatic or excited or completely at ease, but happy nonetheless.

Kihyun would always be a fragile person, but he thinks he’ll be okay.

 

**Author's Note:**

> the tenses in this are all over the place and i am sorry  
> find me: [twitter.](https://twitter.com/shinsxoh)


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